Page 5 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)

FIVE

Jace

I liked this woman—loved might be the wrong word, but my body had already decided. I could admire the way the moon lit her sun-kissed skin and not worry about morning-after attachments.

That was my rule. Clear lines, clean exits.

I wasn’t a complete bastard. I never lied about what I was or what I wasn’t.

I didn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. If a woman started catching feelings, I stepped back before I caused damage.

That was the point of nights like this: honesty wrapped in heat.

And Andie Miller? She’d met me right there.

No illusions. No requests. Just a spark we both intended to burn through.

I closed my stateroom door and let purpose take the wheel. The boat hummed beneath us, the ocean reflecting in silver across the windows, and Andie stood in the center of it all like she owned every ripple of light in the room.

I turned her to me and pulled her in. Blonde waves slid over her shoulders, catching the low lamp glow. She smelled intoxicating, like ocean air over warm spice, salt and heat, summer and sin. For the first time in a long time, I had to remind myself to breathe.

I studied her for a brief moment, taking the essence of her in. Carefree. Confident. Unforgettable.

And that damn smile—Christ. It was wicked and inviting, as if she knew a secret I’d been waiting my entire life to hear. I’d prided myself on being the charming one who set the pace. Tonight, I’d fallen right off that horse, and I liked the view from here even better.

My thumb traced the cut of her cheekbone, heat rolling under her skin. Her hazel eyes, touched with gold, flickered between challenge and curiosity.

That look did something to me.

I’d been with plenty of women, but the way she looked at me, like she could see past the layers I let the world see and still wanted more, threw me off balance in a way I couldn’t name.

I went to the zipper of her dress.

No fumbling. No fucking around.

The yellow fabric slipped effortlessly down her body and pooled at her heels.

Lace framed her breasts, barely concealing hard peaks in the cool air.

I cupped her face and kissed her like I’d been starving for it, because I had.

Her mouth opened against mine with a soft sound that shot straight through my control.

We didn’t make room for small talk, and we sure as hell didn’t need tender pauses.

Two bodies, same intention. Her sounds pushed me lower: along the line of her jaw, the column of her throat, the rise of her chest where I tugged the lace down and ran my mouth over her.

She arched into me as my tongue traced slow circles over her peaked nipple, my teeth grazing lightly until her breath hitched.

Her fingers locked in my hair, a silent order for more, and I obeyed.

I slid the matching lace down over the curve of her hips.

Every inch of her was deliberate—clean lines, soft skin, a confidence that said she knew the effect she had and didn’t apologize for it.

It wasn’t vanity; it was power. I appreciated excellence in all forms, and everything about Andie was excellence.

I was lowering, ready to taste more of her, when her fingers tightened in my hair and her gaze pinned mine.

“I said I’m making the rules tonight,” she murmured, that smile back, sharper now. “I’m in control. Of everything.”

I rose, letting my height close around her. “I’m not arguing.”

“Good,” she said, pleased, like she’d expected a fight and was happier I understood the assignment.

Her hands went for my belt. Efficient. Confident.

After my slacks fell, she worked my shirt like she’d been born undoing buttons. The cotton hit the floor, then my undershirt followed, and her palms dragged over my chest with a predatory kind of curiosity that made my breath saw in my throat.

She pushed my briefs down, and before the fabric finished sliding, she took me into the heat of her mouth.

A sound tore out of me, raw and unplanned. I braced one hand against the wall and the other in her hair to steady myself as she set a pace that bordered on indecent. Not frantic, hell no. Focused. Every pull was deliberate, every glide of her tongue threatened to buckle my knees.

It was obvious this woman didn’t guess; it was like she could read me. The disciplined part of my brain, the part that always existed even mid-storm, clocked that detail and filed it under dangerous.

And I ached for more.

“Jesus,” I breathed, the word mangled.

My control slipped, then slid. I wasn’t used to losing it this early; hell, I wasn’t used to losing it at all.

“I don’t come before a woman,” I told her, my voice rough from holding on.

It wasn’t a boast; it was a line I didn’t cross. Not because of politeness, but because of precision. It’s who I was.

Her answer was to grip my hips and take me deeper. Lightning snapped behind my eyes. The damn yacht could have listed and I wouldn’t have noticed.

“Fuck—” The word broke apart.

Get it together, Stone.

This was new territory for me: being guided without being diminished. I didn’t hate it.

Just before I came, she gently eased off.

When my eyes found hers, I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding, and it came out as a groan.

That’s when her mouth curved, wicked and knowing. “I want you inside me,” she said. No teasing, no coyness, just a clean statement of need.

My laugh was quiet and disbelieving. “Oh, you’ll definitely get what you want. And so much more, gorgeous.”

I walked her to the bed with my hands at her waist, the pads of my thumbs counting the beats of her pulse.

She climbed back, hair spilling over the white duvet, while the moonlight laid a gold veil over the shape of her.

The balcony door stood open and the sea whispered beyond it.

Her tan lines flashed when she shifted, and I thought, for one useless second, that I was in trouble.

I was so very fucked.

Who the hell was this woman? The mental file I’d begun on her tonight didn’t even come close to covering this. None of it warned me that I’d want her again before we were finished the first time.

I reached for the nightstand without taking my eyes off her and pulled a packet from the box.

Practicality and precision weren’t just costumes I put on for work.

They were who I was. I tore the foil, rolled the condom on, and got an intoxicating view of my impending problem: Andie’s legs opening for me, a slow invitation that fried the rest of my circuitry.

Mental files be damned; I needed more of this woman.

She smiled as if she’d read my thoughts, “Come here, big guy,” she said, amusement threading through the heat. “I want you.”

I paused at the edge of the bed and absorbed her.

The faint freckle high on her left breast. The pulse flutter at her throat.

The way her hands fanned in the sheets like she was rooting herself so she didn’t reach for me first. A lesser version of me might have smirked, called this what it looked like—another night, another body.

Something shifted in my chest like a lock turning.

And that’s where I was fucked and didn’t care.

It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t even sentiment. It was a clean, cutting certainty: this woman would ruin me for anyone who tried to follow after her.

I moved in, bracing on my forearms so my weight didn’t crush her. Her breath caught in perfect sync with mine.

My mouth found hers again, less hunger now, more reverence, and when her lips parted, something hot and possessive slid through me like a current.

“Last warning,” she whispered against my mouth, smiling even as her pulse sped. “I’m still running this.”

“Good,” I said, meaning it.

The world narrowed to heat and heartbeat and the sound of the ocean outside. Her scent wrapped around me, ocean air over warm spice, and I knew I would never forget this.

Her legs framed my hips, her fingers skimming my spine like she was drawing lines she intended to revisit.

I set myself at her entrance, holding still just long enough to feel the tremor in her thighs.

I wanted to memorize the exact shade of her eyes when I first pushed inside.

I wanted to know how she sounded when surprise hit pleasure and turned into something else entirely.

“Jace,” she breathed.

I pressed in, slow, deep, controlled, letting the stretch take us both, letting the first slide brand itself in my bones.

That was the moment I knew the truth I’d been circling all night: no other woman would taste the same, feel the same, be the same. And if I tried to pretend otherwise, my body would call me a liar.

I stilled, forehead to hers, lungs dragging for air that didn’t feel like enough. Her nails traced my back, while the ocean threw light across the ceiling. Instead of cutting the intensity, I sank a fraction deeper and watched her eyes go wide.

Her legs tightened around my waist, locking us together. She used her leverage to control my thrusts, guiding me exactly how she wanted me.

“Yeah,” I rasped, voice gone. “That.”

Her mouth curved, breath hitching. Pure sin and victory.

Then her hand was around me, trying to gently guide me out.

Something wild inside me snapped. The need to come and the need for more of her merged into a hunger I couldn’t name.

I thrust into her one last time before honoring her request and pulling out, hunting for her next point of surrender.

My fingers went straight to her slick heat, working her with the precision of a man who knew exactly how to dismantle her.

I needed control—not to dominate her, but to prove I was everything she wanted and needed tonight.